My mom sent me this picture of a deceased man . . . at his wake . . . IN HIS RECLINING ARMCHAIR! 

For those who suspected I grossly exaggerated a man’s love for his recliner in my novel, To Kill An Armchair Husband, a dark comedy,  I say . . . HA!  Did not!

Men adored special chairs. Special throne-like chairs. Command chairs with remotes (think Captain Picard).  And, if a man’s chair comes with a built-in massager, a mini-bar, and reclines every which way, all the better!

Apparently, this poor dude’s last wishes included placement in his recliner. If that’s not enduring love for the chair, I don’t know what is!

Check out the story of a dude who got trapped in his chair by a buffalo head!  http://news.discovery.com/animals/buffalo-head-falls-traps-man-in-his-recliner-chair.html

Take heed all you hunter/recliner lovers. Life in the chair can be dangerous too!

Directions for Uninhibited First Draft Writing

1. Plop down in front of your computer and start pounding out words. Who cares if the words sound stupid! If you don’t read them you won’t know they’re stupid.  Besides, stupid today can look like genius tomorrow and yeah, well, it works the other way too. The important thing is NEVER EVER read your fragile virgin words immediately after you’ve let them loose.

Helpful Hint: Pretend that you are a court reporter and your job is to report/type the words you hear in your head. You do hear words, people speaking, that kind of think, don’t you? As a court reporter, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO CHANGE THE WORDS, NOT EVEN ONE TINY WORD, OR YOU WILL BE FIRED!  Let me be clear. I mean leave the mistakes. Leave the shoddy punctuation. Leave the angry words and the naughty words and the embarrassing grammar.

2. Write until you reach the goal you set for yourself. Hello! You did set a goal, right?  Some writer folk use a time-limit, some like a word count, some a page count.  DON’T set an obnoxiously huge goal that will be impossible to attain. There’s a term for this kind of person. Self-Sabatoger!

DO set a baby goal that you can feel good about cause you will be able to accomplish your goal in 20 minutes, no problem. When you are finished hit save and walk away. Walk away. Walk away.

3. I am of the opinion that uninhibited first draft writing requires a chaser to relieve the stress of  . . . uninhibited first draft writing.  I favor dancing to the funky little tune, ”Get up offa that thing” by James Brown  http://www.youtube.com/embed/0ROzGihgCj8

If you’re going to imitate me, remember, absolutely no editing, no analysis, no mirrors for goodness sake! Just feel the music and move it!

My Middle Name 

 My name is Sharon G. Broyer. In case you don’t figure it out from what I’m about to tell you, the middle initial really stands for “Gullible.” I’m the kind of person who just doesn’t expect people to snow me, which makes it all the easier for them to do it, over and over again…

There was the time my sister-in-law visited us while my husband happened to be sleeping on the couch, sans shoes. “Don’t sit there,” I whispered as she was about to sit in the open spot next to his feet. “His feet really stink.” That night, as I rested my head on my pillow, I noticed an odd odor. Hubby started to chuckle. I had no clue he’d overheard me, and to get his revenge he’d stuffed my pillowcase with his dirty socks. (Two points hubby; Shari-zero, like her I.Q.)

And then there was the trip to Niagara Falls and its attractions, one of which was a wax museum. Outside the entrance was a life-size figure of Frankenstein. Feeling playful, I reached up to stroke his cheek, and said, “Hello there, handsome!” When he stiffly raised his hands and replied, “Hello beautiful, how ‘bout a hug?”I screamed and bolted down the sidewalk. (The bystander with camera gets all the credits, probably on America’s Funniest.)

Once I was called to assist a street fair magician because I looked “like the adventuresome type” (looked like a sucker was more like it). He’d been manipulating scarves and producing flowers, birds, etc. He held a long one up and said, “Don’t get the wrong idea, but I need to stuff this down the front of your shirt. Are you game?” Clueless me, I said, “Yes.” “Now, I want you to put your forehead on mine and look into my eyes while I tell you a joke, and when I’m done, you pull one end of this scarf and I’ll pull the other on the count of three, okay?” “Okay.” The joke was told, the count was given, and the scarf was pulled. The audience roared as a bra popped out, and I reeled in embarrassed astonishment. (Turned out it wasn’t my bra, just one about my size—small—like my brain.)

And the time the scarecrow sitting in a chair outside the home my little grandson and I approached while trick-or-treating got up and opened the door for us, and I screamed bloody murder making my grandson and the guy in the costume laugh (you’d a thunk I’d gotten wise after ole Frankie, but no-o, not this naïve nitwit).

A last example: A musician friend of mine gave a concert and I attended. I felt comfortable enough with him to heckle him playfully from the audience. After zinging him mildly a few times, he decided enough was enough. “Shari,” he said, “did you know ‘gullible’ isn’t in the dictionary?” “It isn’t?” came the automatic response.  ZING! ZING!

So now you know why my middle name really isn’t Gayle.

Shari Broyer has been writing since childhood. Her earliest award: a 1st place trophy for Creative Writing at 8th grade graduation. Formerly: Editor in Chief of KSU Ashtabula’s Kaleidoscope; Facilitator, writers group, Barnes and Noble, High Point, NC; host of Writer’s Digest World’s Largest Writing Workshop; published in various literary anthologies; top 100 winner, Writer’s Digest 2000 competition–Inspirational category, etc. Currently, she facilitates Writers Roundtable at Changing Hands Bookstore in Mesa, AZ. Her goal: #1 New York Times best-selling author. Her first novel, Ether Man, a paranormal romantic comedy, is in simultaneous submission to several agents.  Check her out at:  http://www.fanstory.com/shariannegaylee

It’s official. My writing has been deemed funny.

I’ve been acknowledge as hilarious by someone other than my mom and dad.

I’ve been RECOGNIZED as an author of  humorous words on Google’s # 1  ranked site for humor writers http://www.humorwriters.org – a site which happens to be dedicated to my top female humor hero, Erma Bombeck.

It’s a glorious month for this humor writer. Every morning, I do a little celebration dance and sing myself a little cheer (with pom-poms) that goes like this, “Go Terri, Go Terri, Go Terri . . . .”

Enough about me.  Let’s talk about Erma Bombeck, a pioneer of every day humor.

Erma wrote for homemakers. For those unfamiliar with the term, homemakers are the ancestors of stay-at-home moms.  Back in the day, homemakers sewed clothing for their children and cooked for their families in harvest gold kitchens and cleaned . . . REALLY cleaned, like they got down on their knees and scrubbed the kitchen floor EVERY SINGLE DAY. 

Homemakers hosted tupperware and fondue parties. They played charades and disco danced while shamelessly drinking cheap pink wine during the day. And no one thought anything of it.

But I digress.

Erma Bombeck was all about finding the funny in every day suburban life.  She found humor in housework and children and, of course, my favorite fodder – - husbands.

Erma wrote hundreds of columns and several books with entertaining titles like The Grass is Always Greener Over the Septic Tank and Family — The Ties That Bind . . . and Gag.  Although she has passed on, Erma is still vastly popular today, in fact, an online museum exists in her honor and more than 100.000 people visit it every year. Check it out at  http://www.ermamuseum.org/home.asp

A legacy of laughter is wonderful gift.

Thank you, Erma.

 Diary page entries during a week long bout of acute bronchitis.

I’ve fallen ill. My strength is drained by bone-wracking coughing. Bizarre questions/scenarios/fantasies plague me night and day. I fear for my sanity. Or is the codeine-laced cough syrup my doctor prescribed to blame?

When my voice returns, I’m going to practice yodeling like that guy in the Ricola commercial. I should be able to do it as I’ve consumed twenty Ricola cough drops in the last 4 days.

A foot thumping sneeze combined with a thunderous hacking cough attack results in a Depends moment. I can sink no lower. I must keep my bladder empty even if it means crawling to the bathroom every 1/2 hour.

Why does my child gaze at me with faintly disguised repulsion when I croak at her to kindly bring me a cup of soup? HOW MANY TIMES did I nurse her back from the brink of death?

I have an uncontrollable urge to comb out my mucky nose hair with an itty bitty comb. I wonder if there are any Polly Pocket hair utensils around the house?

Five. The number of times the sound of ogre-like snoring woke me.  Alas, I was/am the culprit. I belong on Shrek now. Mucus. Swollen nose. Skin tinged with green. I’m transforming.

Must stop the neighborhood dogs from barking or I will surely go mad. If only I possessed the strength to climb the tallest tree in our yard, a rifle loaded with  . . . tranquilizers strapped to my back. I’ll start with the little dogs first, for they possess the shrillest barks.

Yes Man (2008) http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uRv4CoXQoAQ

A great comedy for  2011 with a great message . . . Just Say Yes!!

Say yes to the possibilities in your life.

Say yes to adding more fun, more HUMOR, more joy to your life.

Laugh until your stomach hurts and tears are rolling down your face. It’s the best therapy AND it tones your abs.

Funny Excerpt from the movie.  (Carl Allen and Alison riding a scooter)

Alison: Am I going too fast for you?
Carl Allen: Nah. In fact, I think you should go faster. That way if we crash, at least I’ll die. I just don’t wanna be kept alive artificially.

Say Yes!

This excerpt is from Nora Ephron’s hilarious screenplay and movie, When Harry Met Sally . . .

Harry –  I had my dream again. Where I’m making love and the Olympic judges are watching. I’ve nailed the compulsories, so this is it. The finals. I get a 9.8 from the Canadian. I get a perfect 10 from the American. And my mother, disguised as an East German judge, gives me a 5.6. Must have been the dismount.

Yeah, I guess we could call this 1989 movie an oldie (consider the East German reference) but it’s far more than just a goodie. It’s hysterical. As I say repeatedly, humor is all about the dialogue and Ms. Ephron sure can write it.

The flick is a must for those who love romantic comedies. The screenplay is a must for those who want to write light humor.

Let’s not forget about the infamous scene in the diner when Sally um, fakes, um, well, you either know what I’m talking about or you don’t.

Psst!  That scene I’m talking about? I think it’s posted on Youtube. 

No . . . I’m not giving you a link. Go find it yourself!

More of my favorite excerpts from my favorite comedies next week.

Don’t you just love to laugh?

My favorite poem by “the man” Ralph Waldo Emerson.  

What is Success?

To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty; To find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived; This is to have succeeded.

These are the benchmarks by which I measure the quality of my life! I have many, many things to be thankful for!

So I was dusting my daughter’s Designer Barbie Collection — Barbies draped in fabulous clothes and displayed in dazzling boxes — when I discovered an infiltrator in the group, a party crasher, by the name of … Corvette Barbie.

Yep. I’m not kidding. CORVETTE BARBIE!

I know. I know. I was flabbergasted as well.

Now, let me tell you about her, uh, get-up.

Vinyl dress slit up up to her….

V neck zipper top showing plenty of ….

Brassy Blonde dye job with a good INCH (measurements are to Barbie scale) of brown roots showing.

On her feet, Black WORKBOOTS with red socks peeking out the top.

Lipstick the color of dried blood. WAY, WAY too much eye make-up.

Oversized NASCAR flag earrings for pete’s sake!

Mother of Pearl! I was surprised she wasn’t chugging down a trophy filled with champagne!

How on earth did this upstart get in?

I considered the possibilities and the only clue. Fortunately, it was a big one.

The culprit had parked a mini yellow Matchbox Corvette in front of her display box.

The angle park job was the dead give away. The culprit? None other than my husband.

A million questions ran through my mind. Why didn’t he tell me he added another doll to my daughter’s collection? Did he think I wouldn’t notice? And, what was with the matchbox car?

I asked a couple of the questions but got the standard replies, “I don’t know. I forgot about it. It’s no big deal.”

I have since relocated Corvette Barbie. She now resides on a shelf  in my husband’s billards room surrounded by multiple Matchbox Corvettes and adjacent to a figurine of Slash, the infamous guitar player formerly of Guns and Roses.

I think she’ll have much more fun with Slash than a bunch of uptight, overdressed, couture Barbies. Don’t you?

Audrey on her novel, Poles Apart

Fellow Lit sister, author, writing instructor, friend . . . Audrey RL Wyatt is brilliant! Poles Apart, her award-winning novel explores the fascinating and little known topic of 2nd generation survivor syndrome. Watch the video to learn more! 

I highly recommend the book and not just because she’s my friend!